Aftermath
by Ameraka
Summary: Sort of continuation of Consequence. What characters have to deal with in the aftermath. Different POVs, starting with Tasha's. Mostly just me exploring what the characters might do next.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N I may post more...this is meant to be a kind of epilogue to _Consequence._ Like _Scars_ was to _Fallout,_ but different- probably longer, and with more points of view. Also an interlude between _Consequence_ and the next story (hopefully the finale of this series...). This is basically what the characters have to deal with as a result of _Consequence_. Probably mostly a series of vignettes loosely connected. _

* * *

Tasha stepped into the jail cell, her heels clicking on the cement. She imagined her suit as armor, her face as an impassive mask, shutting down all emotion.

_This is business_, she told herself. _Nothing more._

The man sat in the solitary cell on the bench along the wall. His hands were cuffed, and a chain led from his wrists to the manacles on his ankles. He was secure; she had nothing to fear from him. Still, her heart thudded hard against her chest.

His eyes followed her as she walked in. Cold eyes, like the eyes of a snake. The urge built up in her to strangle him; he was poisonous, like a viper.

But she needed information. And she needed to divorce herself from emotion to get it.

_This is going to be harder than I thought. _

She took a deep breath.

"Gray," she said. "You wouldn't mind telling us your real name? Even the NSA is unaware of your actual identity."

Gray smirked. "I'd like to keep it that way."

"There are more important things to learn anyway. Like who your employer is. If you give me Will's identity, we may be able to cut you a deal."

"'Cut me a deal'. Do you even hear yourself, _Agent_?"

_I'm not going to let him bait me_, she thought.

"We'll shorten your sentence. Make sure your cell is comfortable. Give you what you want to eat.

"_If_ you cooperate. If you don't- you'll disappear so far into an enemy combatant detention center you'll never see daylight again." She cringed at her cliché, but language was a mask as well. It put a distance between her and the source of emotion.

"Do what you want. I'll never betray my employer."

"Keep telling yourself that. But I doubt whatever your level of expertise, you can withstand an extended period of scrutiny from the Agency."

"Interrogation, you mean? You government agents with your kid gloves and your code of ethics don't know what interrogation means. Waterboarding? Ha! I could dream up much more imaginative tortures in my sleep."

_Like you did with Jason_, she thought. Red flashed across her vision.

"You couldn't stand up under a few minutes of the treatment you've given to—others."

"Try me."

"I just might." She stepped forward, trembling all over. She longed to give him a taste of the pain he'd given Jason. He was too smug, unrepentant. He needed to be shown who was in control.

She drew a pistol from her belt. Aimed it at him.

All he did was stare back at her, that smirk on his face.

Anger slashed through her, and she slammed the pistol across his temple.

He fell back against the wall. Blood poured from his head, staining the bandage where Jason's bullet had burned. Bright red blood dripped onto his shirt collar.

She shook. The rush of satisfaction withered to regret.

_I let anger control me_, she thought. _I abandoned protocol._ Me.

Gray pushed himself up with his elbow on the bench. His eyes burned into hers. Then they cooled.

"It's him, isn't it? You're more than just a friend. I should've known. I might've kidnapped you instead."

All she could think was that she'd compromised herself. She'd thought she could go in, detached, do her job, like the seasoned agent she was. Instead—

"You probably should have," she said. "But now you're going to rot in jail for a very long time. And this—" she pointed her gun at his temple—"will be the least of your worries." With that parting shot, she turned on her heel, and headed out the door.

_I _need_ this case,_ she thought, as she walked down the hallway, _but because of that, I have to dismiss myself from it. I'll never be able to conduct his interrogation objectively. When we take him to HQ, I'll have to let someone else take over….When I look at that man, all I can think of is what he did to Jason._

_Gray will always be first and foremost the one who almost took Jason from me. _

But when she thought of the blood on Gray's temple, she realized it was almost worth getting dismissed over. A small payment for what he'd done. She stepped out of the police station, into the sunlight.


	2. Chapter 2

Jason walked down the hallway of the jail, the policeman beside him.

"Are you sure you don't need me?" said Lieutenant Shaw.

"I'll be fine. It's not like he can get through the bars or anything." Jason attempted a smile. Shaw raised an eyebrow, his face remaining serious.

"I'll be just on the other side of the security camera," said Shaw.

"Of course," said Jason, though he bristled with annoyance. _I'm a trained agent_, he thought. _I've seen things this man could only dream about. _

_But then, Shaw was one of the ones who rescued me after I was shot. He saw the aftermath of everything this man did to me. He knows the kind of history we have…and must have an idea of why I am coming in here today. Though he couldn't possibly know everything. Or how I've been reliving it all the past two days, ever since Gray returned._

The cop gave him a nod, and disappeared through the nearest exit.

Jason stepped toward the cell, determined not to show the vulnerability that the cop was all too keen to see. After all, Jason was the one who had captured Gray. He had shown who was ultimately stronger, when it came down to it.

Gray stirred on the cot, and sat up, the chains on his handcuffs jangling. "I was wondering when you were going to show up. Come to gloat, have you?" Bitterness shaded his usually glib tone.

"No, I haven't come to gloat." _Maybe just a little_.

Gray looked at him, scrutinizing him as he had in that shed. "Maybe you've come to interrogate me? Your girlfriend already tried that." He gestured to his temple, hard to do when the chain yanked on his wrists.

"So Tasha was in here," said Jason, half to himself.

"_Tasha. _So that's her name. She's quite the beauty. It must be flattering to have so many girls with affection for you. It's hard to know which one you care about most. Or do you care about any of them? Should I have focused on another target? Your father, perhaps."

"I'd never allow you to come near my father."

"You couldn't stop it when I took Connie."

"I _did_ stop you. Are you forgetting where you are, Gray?"

Gray smirked. "So you _have_ come to gloat. It's understandable; you prevailed over me. But it just as easily could have gone the other way."

"You're giving yourself too much credit. You think you're this incomparable professional, but you're really nothing special."

Gray's eyes flashed. For a moment, it looked like he was going to lunge to his feet. Instead, he stood casually.

"You have no ability to prevail at all unless your victim is tied up, and helpless," said Jason. It felt good telling this man he was irrelevant. He couldn't hurt him, not even in his dreams.

Gray slunk forward, as sinuous as a snake. He grasped the bars, stared into Jason's eyes. His gray eyes were like sharp blades, stabbing into his soul.

Jason took an involuntary step back. And immediately regretted it.

Gray laughed, a slow, soft chuckle. "So you still fear me. Good. I may have lost the last round, but I won the first. I am still winning it. I broke you. It's not a thing a man can get over, especially one who prides himself on his strength as much as you."

"You didn't break me."

"Ah, but I came close. You gave me the identity of the weapon. I would have had more if that girl hadn't interfered. It's always the women, isn't it." He pursed his lips. "I can see it in your eyes, Jason. The fear. Tell me. Do you wake up at night, in a cold sweat? Do you sometimes scream, as the whip thwacks down again, only to realize it's just a dream? You'll never be free of me."

Jason shook with anger and hatred, the same anger that had raced down his skin in that shed, as Gray was ripping into him. "You will never be _free_, Gray. You will be taken to an interrogation center. You'll be 'debriefed'. I doubt it will be very pleasant. And you'll never be able to hurt anyone again." Jason looked Gray straight in the eyes, standing his ground this time. This was a truth Gray couldn't escape. Jason wasn't going to allow him to twist this into some kind of victory.

"Like that pretty little thing I had in my power? I can tell you, the things I would have done if I'd had more time—"

Jason leaped forward. He grasped the bars, longing to be able to squeeze Gray's throat. Finish the job he'd started in the abandoned complex.

"So I've hit a nerve, have I? She did have guts, jumping off the roof like she did. Didn't do her much good, though. Only gave me another way to hurt her—"

"Shut up!" Jason turned his back on Gray, anger burning through him. _I can't do this_, he thought. _I can't face this man, hear his voice, without wanting to hurt him. _

_How can I possibly…..Dear God. How can I possibly forgive him?_

A tear slipped down his cheek.

_It's too much. Nadira, yes. Akim, maybe. But Gray—he not only tortured me, he kidnapped Connie, threatened to torture her. Some people have no humanity left. They are lost causes. There is nothing left to do but lock them in a hole and forget them._

_Even that, I'm not sure I can do._

_Please, help me forget him. Help me to leave all this behind me. _

He ignored Gray's next words, and strode out the door, not looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting for Connie to come out of surgery. He tried to focus on the magazine article in front of him for the millionth time, but couldn't even remember what magazine it was, and didn't really care.

_Come on_, he told himself. _It's not like it's life-threatening surgery or anything. She's just getting a pin in her ankle-no big deal. _

_But what if something goes wrong? What if it doesn't fix it, only makes it worse? What if she's unable to walk the rest of her life?_

_I'd never forgive myself. _

_Okay, none of this is my fault. But—even if it isn't, I feel responsible for her. _

His thoughts were cut short by the door squealing open and a nurse wheeling Connie out, her leg in a cast. Jason set the magazine down on the table beside him.

"Here she is," said the nurse. "She was a very good patient. I hope you'll take good care of her."

"I will."

"Of course you will. You look like a strong, capable young man."

"I'm not _that_ young."

The nurse laughed. She told him how the surgery went, that Connie would be out of it for a while, and to tell her to take it easy. She gave him a bottle of prescription painkillers, and man came and brought some crutches, then they both left.

Connie stirred, blinking. She lifted her hand, but it flopped back down, as if she had no strength in it. "I know you," she said, her voice slurred. "You're Jashon Whishakher."

A smile spread across his face despite himself. "Something like that."

Her blue eyes gazed into his, but they lacked their usual sharp energy, their pupils dilated, still trying to focus. "Where am I? Oh, the hoshpital. Do I still have a leg?" She attempted to laugh. When he didn't answer, she said, "I do, don' I?"

"Yeah, you still have a leg." His fingers brushed the cast covering her ankle like a hard shell. Pain cut through him at what she'd gone through. And what she'd have to deal with for a long time to come.

"These lights are reaalllly bright," she said, head rolling back to look at the ceiling.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Sure. Where sshall we go?"

"How about home?"

"Mm-kay. Sounds good, Jason. I can call you Jason right?"

"Yeah. You know me."

"I do, don' I!"

"My dad's going to pick us up. I think he's out there by now. Your mom and Penny are going to meet you at home to take care of you. I told your mom we'd pick you up so she didn't have to get off of work early."

"'kay."

He took the handles at the back of the wheel chair, and after tucking the crutches under his arm, wheeled her toward the door_. They must've given her an overdose of morphine or whatever it was,_ he thought. He hoped she wasn't going to fall out of the chair.

He stopped in the entry way. "Here, I'll help you."

"Shhure."

He grabbed her under her arm, and grasped her other hand, warning her, "Don't stand on your ankle."

"Doeshn't hurt."

"It will."

He left the wheel chair in the entry way, and waited out on the sidewalk. Connie wobbled on one foot. He gave her one of the crutches, but she was still too unsteady to stand. She fell forward, almost landing on her injured foot, and the crutches clattered to the ground. Jason had no choice but to lift her in his arms, in preparation for putting her in the car.

She was surprisingly light. Her head fell back, eyes closing. _She really needs to go back to sleep_, thought Jason.

The car rolled up, and as Whit got out to open the door, Jason laid her gently in the back seat.

Or tried to. Her arms clasped around his neck, and she wouldn't let go.

"Don't leave me, Jason." Fear leapt into her voice. It tore his heart; he knew what, or _who,_ she was afraid of.

"I'd better stay in the back seat, Dad."

"Good idea." Whit smiled. He gathered the crutches and put them beside him in the passenger seat.

Jason buckled her in, carefully arranging her foot so no weight was on it. She clutched his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Please, don't leave me."

"I won't. I promise."

Connie snuggled against him, breathing deeply. _Good, she's asleep,_ thought Jason.

But then she said something, so softly he could hardly hear it: "I love you, Jason."

Shock jolted through him. _It's just the anesthesia talking_, he thought. _She's probably already dreaming. _

But the truth was, the drugs erased inhibitions, tearing down defenses she would have had before. She wouldn't just say something out of the blue, without it having a basis in reality.

He dared to touch her face, brush her cheek with trembling fingers. Slipped her hair back from her forehead.

She was beautiful, like a sleeping angel, even with her hair a mess.

And—the longing hit him, so hard he almost gasped. To kiss her lips, to kiss the flawless skin of her face…

He was relieved when his father distracted him by asking him questions about how the surgery went. But before he knew it, he was looking at her again, and Whit was saying something, but Jason didn't hear him.

All Jason knew was that he wanted to hold her like this, and never let her go. Keep her safe, and hold her in his arms forever.


	4. Chapter 4

_Please see my profile for author's notes. Which is now turning more into a blog to keep people updated on what is going on with my stories. :)_

* * *

Pain shot through Connie's ankle as she struggled to get out of the chair. She'd just taken some painkillers, but they weren't working very well. Her head throbbed. She didn't really feel like going to the party, but she didn't want to let her friends down, especially Wooton and Penny, who had planned it.

Her mom came into the living room. "Sweetie, you okay?" she asked. "Let me help you."

"I'm okay. Just- could you hold those crutches for me?" She pulled herself up off the recliner, shards of pain bursting through her entire leg. She gasped and sat back.

"Maybe you shouldn't go tonight," said her mom.

"No- I have to go. They're doing all this for me."

"That's just it. It's for you. They'll understand if you can't make it. I still don't see why they scheduled it so soon after your surgery."

"Well, even I thought I'd be okay enough to go somewhere by now. But I've never had a broken leg before...I didn't know how I'd feel."

Her mom looked down at her, concern in her eyes. "I don't think..."

"I can make it." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried again, grabbing the crutches, pushing herself to her feet_. Foot_. Mom held a steadying arm for her. Connie stood, her ankle surprisingly not hurting much. Yet.

"I'll get your things," said her mom. She took her purse and dropped the bottle of pills into it. "You'll need these again before long."

Connie hobbled out the door, down the steps. Each step sent new slices of pain through her ankle. She hadn't even been out of the house since the surgery a week ago; now she remembered why.

In all that time, she hadn't seen Jason, except when he'd brought her home, and that hardly counted. She'd been so far under that it seemed like a dream.  
She wondered why Jason hadn't been over to visit her. Connie knew she wasn't the best of company in this state; she didn't blame him for staying away. Still, couldn't he have come over just once? Couldn't he have called?

She was almost glad when the car hit a bump, pain blinding her, cutting off the ache in her heart.

They drove up to the Harlequin Theatre, its low dark form painted with orange afterglow of sunset, its windows bright squares of light. She pushed through the snow to the front door. All she could think was, _What if he's not there?_

_Well it's not like he's the only person in the world I care about._

_I love him, but I can never tell him. One, it would end our friendship. Two, he loves Tasha. I could never come between them._

She stepped through the door, balloons everywhere. Streamers brushed her head as she walked in.

"Hi Connie!" said Penny, rushing over to her. "Hi, Mrs. Kendall!"

"Hi Penny," they both said. Penny touched Connie's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Everything looks great in here."

Penny's face lit up. "We spent all day on it. It kind of ended up a mishmash of styles, but overall I think it turned out okay."

"Hi Connie," said Wooton, coming up to them with a crooked Shakespearean hat on. "We should've thought of it earlier, this being a theater and all."

"What do you mean?"

He leaned in, whispered, "You know, this is the place where they say, "'Break a leg'. Not really the best place for someone with a, you know-"

"Broken leg? That's all right, I'm fine with it."

"Ok, good, because that could get awkward."

They led her over to the table with punch on it, and said hi to Whit, Eugene and Katrina. There was one person she didn't see and kept looking for. Jason. Maybe he wasn't coming at all. Pain cut through her heart, worse than the pain in her ankle.

But she forgot it all as the festivities started. She'd been right to come her; just sitting around, looking at the same four walls all day, got old fast.

First they played some games in the lobby—sitting-down games of course. There were some crazy ones she had never even heard of; she was pretty sure Wooton had made them up. They were more fun than ones she was familiar with though, though so she didn't care.

Then they went into the main theater, and Penny and Wooton performed some skits onstage. She didn't really get the point of some of them, but she enjoyed watching them more than anything she'd seen in a long time.

After that, they gathered around in one of the conference rooms and ate cake. Whit served ice cream; she ate some cookie dough ice cream with sprinkles.  
Finally, they all gathered around to sign her cast.

"Your cast isn't a blank canvas anymore!" said Penny.

"Yeah. Now I feel like a real...person with a broken leg." She was about to get up and show off her developing crutching skills when the door swung open.  
"Sorry I'm late," said Jason. He came up and took the marker from his father, kneeling at her feet.

He signed his name in bold strokes; she could feel the light pressure of it beneath her cast. Everything else faded...the balloons, the streamers, it was just her and him.

"Thank you for coming, Jason," she managed to say.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world." He smiled; her heart felt like a fire flaring a thousand times brighter, lit by his own.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," he said, "it's just that-well, I've been busy this past week-"

"That's what I figured."

"But that's no excuse. I have no good excuse. How...have you been?"

"Good. I mean, Mom and Penny took good care of me. Even your dad came by, like a bunch of times." She couldn't help but let some resentment color her voice; after his ordeal, she'd been at his side almost constantly.

Of course, he'd also rescued her, and so she had no real right to complain. What had she done but risk getting him captured again? All the same, he'd jumped right in there, risked his life, his freedom...

"What can I do to make it up to you?"

She put a hand on her chin. "Hm. Anything?" she said in a mock-enthused tone. "Well, you never did get me that ice cream from France. Or was it chocolate? Doesn't matter. Seriously, there is nothing you can do, because you've already done everything. You saved me from..." She tried to block that whole episode in the abandoned building out of her mind if she could help it. "From him."

"I'm just glad he didn't-that nothing worse happened." He glanced at her cast.

"It almost did. I mean, he was about to-take us somewhere. I thought we were lost causes." She looked down. Visions flashed across her mind of what might have happened-of him being hurt again, like she'd seen in the videos, only much worse. She shut out the memories, but the afterimages remained.

"I knew we only had one chance," he said, "and I took it. I couldn't stand the thought of you...of him hurting you." He touched her chin with his hand. Shock ran through her, freezing her in place. There were tears in his eyes; she'd only seen them there several times. Most recently, during the depths of his despair before the darkness began to lift, and he began to return to some semblance of normalcy.

His touch disappeared, leaving only its ghost. She found herself longing for it again, but knew it was too much to hope for. They were intimate friends; anything more would spoil what they had. She didn't want that, ever.

"I'm just glad it's all over," she said. "He's never going to hurt us again."

"He could," said Jason, a dark look crossing his eyes. "Not physically. But if we let the memories eat away at us, he's won. We shouldn't give him another thought. Not let that darkness affect who we are."

Another look crossed his eyes, one she couldn't quite fathom. He looked out the window, and then at his father and her mother, talking in the corner. Everyone else had left.

"There is one thing...I'd like to tell you." He helped her into the abandoned theater, into the darkness, the red cushioned seats looking like velvet under the lights.  
"What is it?" The dim light illuminated his face, clothing him in mystery.

"When you were coming out of anesthesia-you said something. It's really the reason I was MIA all week. I wasn't really dealing with- I mean, after all that's happened, I'm not sure I can tell what's real and what isn't. But after all this, one thing should be clear. How much you mean to me. How in a way I'm glad this happened, because we got closer, and I don't want anything to tear us apart, much less- I don't want there to be any misunderstanding."

There was a lot of misunderstanding going on; she wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but she didn't want to spoil it with any outpouring of words.  
He touched her face again, the soft brush of his fingers against her chin, as if she was the most precious thing in the world, and he didn't want to risk breaking her. Any more than she was broken already.

She leaned toward him, almost involuntarily; she didn't want that fleeting touch to disappear, as if it had never existed. A tremor ran through her. Could it be-? Could she be wrong about what he felt? She dared not even think it, for fear it might dash her hopes.

"All I know is, I don't want to lose you. When-I was in the car, on the way to your house, you wanted me to hold you, keep you safe. Dad practically had to pry you away from me. Not just because you were hanging onto my arm with a deathgrip."

"I did that?"

He nodded. "The feeling was mutual, I guess. We've grown so much closer over the past two months, but still that wasn't close enough. I never want to not be as close or closer than we were then, or now. If you know what I mean." He touched her hand, tentatively. On impulse she grabbed his hand, forgetting she had crutches, and a broken ankle. She almost toppled over. But he grasped her arm, keeping her from falling.

His eyes drew her in. She leaned into him, not caring if the crutches fell. Because he was all she would ever need.

He kissed her forehead, softly. She closed her eyes, safe in his arms.


End file.
